


Measures of Time and Distance

by Carbonpixel



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Established Relationship, Finals Week, Future Fic, Invader Zim Secret Santa 2017, M/M, Outer Space, Relationship Strain, ZaDr, college!Dib
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 06:33:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13094433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carbonpixel/pseuds/Carbonpixel
Summary: Finals week has put a strain on Dib and Zim's relationship. The solution: a picnic in space.My gift to @imagineightion on tumblr for the IZ Secret Santa 2017.





	Measures of Time and Distance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [imagineightion](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=imagineightion).



“It’s unbecoming for humans to ignore me, Dib-worm.”

Dib sighed and leaned onto his open front door, holding it steady with one hand. He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m not ignoring you, Zim. I told you, it’s finals week.”

“Incorrect!” Zim pushed past Dib into the tiny studio apartment, complete with shabby grey carpeting and pages of handwritten notes littering the floor. He picked up an errant textbook from the small coffee table, flipped through its pages, and tossed it over his shoulder. “You said it was finals week _last_ week.”

Dib rolled his eyes and closed the door, locking it as he turned to face Zim. “I told you about it last week, but it started on Monday.” He shook his head. “Anyway, I have work to do.”

Zim scoffed and picked up a piece of paper from the floor, scribbled over with equations and explanations in Dib’s lackluster handwriting. He crumpled it into a ball and threw it at Dib. “Liar! You will _pay_ for your misinformation!”

Dib watched impassively as the crumpled paper ball bounced off of his arm and back onto the floor. He suppressed a laugh as he picked it up and smoothed it against his stomach. “Pay? How? With what? You know I’m broke. Destitute, even.” He stuck out his tongue and winked in defiance.

Zim recoiled in disgust, eyes opening wide enough to reveal pink rings around his human disguise’s contacts. He folded his arms across his chest. “No, Dib. Not like that.”

“Then I’m afraid I can’t help you, Zim. Feel free to show yourself out.” Dib creased the page of notes into quarters and tucked it into his back pocket, walking across the room to a makeshift desk made of a plastic folding table and a green lawn chair. He pulled the chair backward and swiped his index finger across the track pad of the bulky laptop situated in the middle of the table. “I have a paper to finish writing.”

“No!” Zim ran to the table, grabbing the laptop with both hands and closing it against his chest before Dib could sit down. “No work until you’ve paid your debt, human filth!”

Dib straightened and crossed his arms, looking down at Zim. A faint impression of desperation wafted from Zim’s expression, visible from Dib’s vantage point. He sighed again. “Fine, Zim. I’ll pay the stupid debt. Give me back my computer.”

Satisfaction spread across Zim’s face. “Ah, excellent! Don’t worry, disgusting worm-baby: it’s nothing you can’t pay in time.”

“In time? How long is it going to take? Zim, I have four hours to turn in that paper, don’t play around like that.”

Zim threw his head back and laughed, all dramatics and overacting. “Foolish human! Your tiny mind can’t even _begin_ to comprehend the specifics of my brilliant plan! Don’t even _bother!”_

Dib closed his eyes and stepped toward Zim. “Zim,” he said, voice low and unsettling, “whatever this is, it needs to be over soon. Cut the theatrics and let’s get it over with.” He opened his eyes to see Zim staring up at him, as close to afraid as Zim was capable of appearing.

Zim nodded and gulped. “Yes, I see you have a point. My intellect must be rubbing off on you. Let’s go, then.” He led Dib out the door, Dib’s laptop hanging in one hand at his side.

Dib took a deep breath and locked his front door as the pair headed to the Voot Runner, disguised as a rusted lime-green Volkswagen Beetle via hologram and parked directly in front of Dib’s apartment. “You’re never one for subtlety, are you?” he asked, as he stepped into the holographic field surrounding the spaceship.

Zim shrugged and pressed a button on an oversized key fob. The glass top of the vehicle hinged open, and Zim scrambled inside. “Eh, it’s overrated. Subtlety doesn’t get noticed.”

 

* * *

 

“—and then _I_ said, ‘No, GIR, don’t touch the inhibitor dial!’ but of course he didn’t listen, and Prisoner 777 started screaming and the entire operation exploded.” Zim gesticulated as he spoke, acting out an explosion with one hand and holding a sandwich with the other. “And that’s how Prisoner 777 ruined my plan to carve my face into the crust of the planet. Are you listening?”

Dib glanced at Zim, then returned his gaze to the glass of the Voot Runner. “Yeah, Zim, that’s great. Good work shifting the blame on that one. I almost believed you that time.” Dib took a bite of his own sandwich and admired the view, the entirety of planet Earth displayed beyond the glass. “From up here, your logic looks like it has fewer holes.”

Zim’s eyes narrowed. He wrenched the sandwich out of Dib’s hand. “There will be no sandwiches for critics of Zim on this ship, worm-boy.” He bit into Dib’s sandwich to demonstrate, ripping at it with his teeth.

Dib rested his head on his fist and exhaled. He looked at Zim from under his glasses. “Wasn’t that the whole reason you brought me up here? You wanted a picnic?” He tilted his head toward the Voot Runner’s stern. “You have a whole basket of snacks and drinks in the back, even. Why defeat your own purpose?”

Zim’s grip tightened on the confiscated sandwich, causing the Irken equivalent of mayonnaise to drip onto the ship’s floor. “Your end will be slow, and it will be painful. I will personally ensure that—“

“Zim, don’t start. I’m not in the mood.”

“—your organs will liquefy and shoot out of your every orifice. I will put _new_ orifices into your body for the express purpose of releasing your liquefied organs. I will—“

“Zim!” Dib slammed one hand against Zim’s head, his thumb pressing between Zim’s eyes. Zim fell silent. “Stop it. I’m not dealing with this right now. I have more important things to worry about.”

“Like what?” Zim hissed, gritting his teeth and pushing into Dib’s hand. “What could you have to do that’s so important that you can’t take two hours to eat food in space and stay quiet while I regale you with tales of my incredible successes? What in the entire smelly, filthy planet has made you so…so… _stupid?!”_

Dib’s expression softened when he noticed the highlights in Zim’s eyes quivering, as if he were about to cry. He sighed and relaxed his grip. “I’m sorry. This semester’s been rough. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I was ignoring you.”

Zim barked out a laugh as Dib lifted his hand from Zim’s head. “Feel? Irkens do not feel, idiot worm-boy. We make other creatures feel. Fear, and incontinence.” He jerked his eyes toward the ship’s controls, away from Dib. A silence fell between them for a moment, until Zim spoke again. “If you must know, I find the idea of Prisoner 777 thwarting my plans…unappetizing.”

Dib smirked. “Does that mean you find the idea of me thwarting your plans appetizing?”

“Don’t get smart, disgusting pig-smelly. Save it for your stupid paper.” Zim pressed a few buttons and grabbed the ship’s steering apparatus, easing the Voot Runner back into the Earth’s atmosphere.

The spaceship’s hologram activated as the vessel neared the parking lot of Dib’s apartment building, creating the appearance of a small car floating into the last available parking space. The Voot Runner’s ceiling opened, and Dib stepped outside. He linked his fingers and stretched his arms over his head. “Hey, just so you know,” he said, as Zim pressed more buttons on the ship’s control panel, “after I finish this paper, I’ll be done with classes for a while. If you were interested, I _might_ be able to squeeze in some snooping around your place, for old times’ sake.”

Zim replied without looking up. “Don’t bother showing up if you’re not going to try to destroy my new death-ray or dismantle my security system again.”

“Yeah, I could probably make time for that.” Dib grinned involuntarily at the thought of rekindling that particular relationship. “It’s a date.”

“Just take your computer and go. Your sentiment is making me sick.” Dib’s laptop soared through the air as the Voot Runner ascended. He caught the computer with both hands and watched as Zim’s ship, and later an old Volkswagen, darted above the building and across the visible skyline.

Dib checked the time on his watch as he headed back toward his apartment. Thirty-eight minutes until his final paper was due. “What a jerk,” he said under his breath, hurrying back to make up for lost time. “We should probably hang out more often.”

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout to @imagineightion on tumblr, who requested some ZADR as part of the IZ Secret Santa exchange. Thanks for the request, and I hope you enjoyed the fic it inspired!


End file.
